


Where the heart is

by melian225



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 13:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14498301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melian225/pseuds/melian225
Summary: It’s just after the Battle of Hogwarts, and Harry is rather exhausted now the war is over. All he wants to do is go home and have a rest so he can start preparing for the rest of his life. But where exactly is home?





	Where the heart is

The battle was over, Hogwarts was starting to be patched up and the wizarding world was in celebration at the final, definite defeat of Voldemort. Harry, as the main player in this event, was highly sought-after by just about everyone, from strangers on the street to former class-mates to the _Daily Prophet_ to the new Minster, but all he really wanted to do was find the people most important to him and go home for a bit of quiet time.

“I’m dying for a break,” he said to Ron and Hermione. “You know, just lie low for a while and relax. God only knows I need it.”

“Great idea,” Ron said. “Where do you want to go?”

Harry hesitated. That was the problem – he had no real home anymore. Nowhere he could comfortably give that title. “Good question,” he said after a while. After all, what options did he have?

Not Privet Drive, that was for sure. His only memories of that place were bad ones, and he didn’t have enough affection for the Dursleys to try to rebuild those bridges just yet. If they were even there – he wasn’t sure where they’d been taken that night back in July. Anyway, while a potential reconciliation with his only living relations was definitely on his to-do list, if he was honest with himself it was firmly stationed somewhere near the bottom.

Nor did he feel he could call Grimmauld Place home. Even though he owned it and it was probably his best option in the short term, he still saw it as Sirius’ house, and the place where his godfather had suffered so much. Or the home of the Order, now effectively disbanded since their raison d’être had been defeated. In any case, it was more a last resort than anything else.

The only place he had ever really felt at home was Hogwarts, and he couldn’t go back there. No, he was an adult now, and he had to make his own way in the world.

“Come to the Burrow,” Ron urged, sitting on the grass with one long arm firmly around Hermione. “Mum and Dad would love to have you over again.”

Harry hesitated. While this was probably true, he was no longer comfortable with that as an option either. Not only did he feel that as an adult such a move would be a step backwards, looking for dependence and security rather than independence and the unknown, but he also felt guilty for the death of Fred in the final battle, and hated facing the Weasleys knowing Fred had died fighting what was essentially Harry’s battle. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted Mrs Weasley to see his behaviour around Ginny and, let’s face it, they had a lot of catching up to do.

Hermione was more understanding. “Do you want to go back to Grimmauld Place for a little while?” she asked gently. “Just until it all dies down a bit? Or maybe go travelling,” she went on, clearly trying to come up with other options. “There are some lovely places on the Continent where no one will know you, you can just go back to being anonymous again.”

Harry laughed bitterly. “Again? When have I ever been anonymous?”

“Yes, fair enough,” Hermione said. “But you know what I mean.”

Harry hesitated again. “While it’s a reasonable idea, Hermione,” he said slowly, “I did want to stay in England so I can still …” His voice trailed off.

Hermione nodded. “You want to be close to Ginny. Right. Well, Harry, as far as I can tell your main options are either going back to Grimmauld Place, or taking a room at a hotel which would probably have its own problems, particularly if the _Daily Prophet_ finds you.”

Harry’s face dropped. While he recognised that Hermione was right, he still didn’t want to go back to Grimmauld Place. Not yet. “A hotel?” he said weakly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. “If you must,” Ron said finally.

Harry looked at them, confused. “What?”

“Can’t you see, Harry, you’re just delaying the inevitable?” Hermione asked. “You’re going to have to go back to Grimmauld Place some time, you know that.”

“Yes, I know that,” Harry said irritably, “but I don’t want to do it just now. So I’m going to a hotel, and you can either come with me or not, depending what you want to do.”

Hermione nodded resignedly. “Of course we’ll come with you,” she said. “There’s just one thing I need to do first.” She reached for her bag and started rummaging through it.

“What are you looking for?” Harry asked.

Hermione finished rummaging and pulled out a quill, inkwell and some parchment, as well as a rather thick book to lean on. “I’m just writing to Kreacher, to say that he needn’t go back to the house yet. He’ll be so disappointed,” she said, as if to herself. “He was really looking forward to you going back there to live.”

Harry started. Kreacher. Of course! He’d forgotten all about the ageing house elf, but of course it stood to reason that Hermione hadn’t. Harry hadn’t even thought of how Kreacher might be feeling at the moment, had just assumed he would stay on at Hogwarts where he’d been for the past several months, but Hermione was right – the house elf would of course be expecting to be returned to service in Grimmauld Place to look after his new master.

“How do you always manage to do that?” he asked in wonder.

Hermione stopped writing and looked up. “Do what?”

“Make me feel guilty. I’d forgotten about Kreacher.”

“I’d guessed that,” Hermione said, her eyes flicking upwards to Ron’s face and the beginnings of a pleased look on her own.

“Was he … was he really looking forward to going back?” Harry was almost hesitant, unsure he was ready to hear the answer.

“Of course he was,” Hermione said briskly. “I had a good talk to him after the battle, you know, to explain why we’d never come back to the house after we went to the Ministry that day, and to make sure he was being well looked after. All he wanted to know was when was Master Harry going back so he could show off all the new recipes he’d learned in the Hogwarts kitchens.”

Harry groaned. That made him feel even worse, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy to take on Grimmauld Place to make it more cheerful yet.

Ron was watching him shrewdly. “Tell you what, mate,” he said, reading Harry correctly as he so often did these days, “we’ll all help. Me and Hermione and Ginny and anyone else you want to come. Take down some of those curtains and give it a bit of paint to make the place brighter and less, well, spooky.”

Hermione joined in. “And I’m sure Kingsley will be happy to let some of the Aurors or whoever else come down to try to take some of those concealing spells off the place,” she added brightly. “Or even Bill, he’s a curse breaker so he’s bound to have some good ideas. He might even be able to get some of his friends from Gringotts to work out how to get Sirius’ mum off the wall in the hallway.”

“And let’s face it,” Ron went on, “if the curse breakers and the best the Ministry has to offer can’t get her down, then no one can. And in that case, we’ll be glad to let you take off to a hotel for a little while.”

Harry grinned suddenly. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, he thought, he was able to deal with the most powerful dark wizard since Grindelwald. With his friends surrounding him, he was sure he could make the old house not only habitable, but warm, cosy and welcoming. And it wasn’t _so_ bad at Grimmauld Place – he’d managed to stay there for a good couple of months last year without it getting him down too much.

“Tell you what,” he said, the beginnings of an idea starting to form in his mind. “I’ll do it. We’ll get Kreacher and tell him to get ready to feed an army – or, at the very least, a dozen or so. And we’ll call on everyone to come over and pitch in – you lot and Ginny, of course, but also George and Bill and Fleur and Charlie and Percy, if he wants to come, and Neville and Luna. Definitely Luna,” he went on, thinking that her other-worldly observations would be a brilliant distraction, if nothing else. “And if we have to tear down the wall to get rid of Sirius’ mum, then that’s what we’ll do.” He was starting to feel more energetic and enthusiastic already.

“Brilliant, Harry!” said Hermione admiringly. “We knew you could do it.”

“Good idea about Sirius’ mum, too,” added Ron. “What’s on the other side of that wall?”

Harry shrugged. “Who cares? It’s my place now, I can do what I like to it. And it has to be done, so why not now? Kreacher can help out and anything we don’t want, he can take his pick of it as a reward. The rest gets Vanished.” He looked at Ron and Hermione, still entwined around each other, just in time to see them exchange a glance that could only be described as triumphant.

“Then it’s settled,” said Ron happily. “I’ll let Ginny know. The four of us can go there now and anyone else can join us in a day or two once you’re settled in. Sound all right?”

“Sounds brilliant, Ron,” Harry grinned as he reached for his rucksack. “Okay, you two, let go of each other for five minutes and get your things. We’re going home.”


End file.
